"The deaul will hev his ain noo," answered Dick, in his friend's ear.
"T' sexton's got a craigthraw like he gav' the lass over the clints of
Scarsdale; ye mind what the ald soger telt us when he hid his face in
the kitchen of the George here? By Jen! I'll ne'er forget that story."
"I ween 'twas all true enough," replied the hostler; "and the sizzup
he gav' the sleepin' man wi' t' poker across the forehead. See whar
the edge o' t' bell took him, and smashed his ain, the self-same lids.
By ma sang, I wonder the deaul did na carry awa' his corpse i' the
night, as he did wi' Tam Lunder's at Mooltern Mill."
"Hout, man, who ever sid t' deaul inside o' a church?"
"The corpse is ill-faur'd enew to scare Satan himsel', for that
matter; though it's true what you say. Ay, ye're reet tul a trippet,
thar; for Beelzebub dar'n't show his snout inside the church, not the
length o' the black o' my nail."
While this discussion was going on, the gentlefolk who were talking
the matter over in the centre of the yard had dispatched a message for
the coroner all the way to the town of Hextan.
The last tint of sunset was fading from the sky by this time; so, of
course, there was no thought of an inquest earlier than next day.
In the meantime it was horribly clear that the sexton had intended to
rob the church of its plate, and had lost his life in the attempt to
carry the second bell, as we have seen, down the worn ladder of the
tower.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45